


Are you insane like me?

by ScourgeOfStyria



Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Carmilla mhau, F/F, Graphic depiction of self harm, Hollence angst, Hollstein - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, TW TW TW, TW: Graphic depictions of violence, TW: Self Harm, no supernatural, tw: mental illness, tw: suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 23:56:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScourgeOfStyria/pseuds/ScourgeOfStyria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmilla mental hospital AU. Laura Hollis is admitted to the historic Silas Hospital in Styria after a long battle with severe depression. Despite no longer having her freedom, she decides to engage in a little investigative journalism, and doesn’t like what she uncovers. Complicating matters further is the mysterious new patient who arrives shortly thereafter… M for graphic violence. Track #carmilla mhau for updates, or visit me at t-shirtcreep.tumblr.com.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this AU came to me while walking around my kitchen after work, imagining scenarios for the future, which devolved into Carmilla trash because I am Carmilla trash. Based on personal experience. This is my original attempt to fulfill everything this AU could be. Slow burn Hollstein. Unbeta’ed; this is my first published work, and I would love any feedback. Credit for Carmilla does not go to me, but if it did, I probably would have made the fandom go through just as much angst. Title from Halsey’s ‘Gasoline’, bless her. Written while listening to BADLANDS on repeat. Will attempt to update every T and Th.

With Danny Lawrence gone, the studio apartment was half-empty and devoid of noise, save for the quiet sobbing emanating from the master bedroom. The cramped space was sparsely furnished, with a bed, desk and chair. The walls remained decorated with photo collages featuring the now-separated couple that neither party had the heart to take down, a testament to the past. It would take much more than a cursory glance to notice the figure huddled underneath the blankets, clinging to a baseball shirt that Danny left behind.

Two weeks ago, Danny walked out of that front door for the last time. What few dishes Laura had managed to use stayed piled in the sink. She had not changed her clothing or bathed since her girl— _ex-_ girlfriend left, and she slept the hours away as much as was humanly possible. The waking hours were the darkest. _One year and six months wasted,_ Laura whispered to herself repeatedly. _All that time, down the drain._ As she lay on her bed of torment, other memories relentlessly assaulted her. Losing her mother crippled her years ago, and she never quite came to terms with it. The pain floated to the surface facilely, as though it were a bubble of air in a murky lake.

Every day was the same, had been the same. First and foremost, she’d resolutely ignore all calls except her father’s. She’d speak to him in clipped sentences, feigning keeping busy and answering in a falsely cheerful tone. She could not drag herself out of bed for class, and stubbornly pretended to have no commitments. She knew she would be unable to pay this month’s rent in its entirety, and the shame of admitting that to herself fueled her self-hatred. Shame and self-hatred gave way to self-injury with the razor she kept in her nightstand ‘for emergencies’. Her arms, thighs and stomach were covered in makeshift bandages and betadine stains. She fastidiously cleaned her own injuries, and had even stitched a particularly severe laceration to her anterior left thigh with a makeshift curved needle and thin cotton thread.

The cut she stitched herself seemed to mend at first, but as the skin knit together, it grew redder and hotter with each passing day. By the fifth day, when her forehead grew hot and she was soaked by sweat, Laura was sure something had gone horribly wrong. She slipped in and out of consciousness with no control. She had no qualms about what was happening to her body. Her dim awareness that gangrene might develop and death might result from a high enough fever was not enough to overpower her inability to care. She was drowning in her mental illness. She only feared being caught.

She had not forced Danny to return her copy of the key. More than anything, this was what Laura came to regret. Laura Hollis never hated the world more than when Danny stepped quietly through the front door. It was the middle of the day on a Tuesday, and Danny expected to be able to slip in unnoticed while Laura was in class. The first thing Danny noticed was the stagnant air, the piled messes of dishes and clothing.

Despite all the signs evident during their fights, Danny was completely, blissfully unaware of the ticking time bomb that was Laura’s depression.

It would have been an easy mistake to make, missing that Laura was there. Indeed, Danny’s eyes almost passed directly over Laura’s shivering form under the blankets when she entered the bedroom. The only hint Danny had was the tiny gasp Laura emitted when her eyes opened and she was lifted from her state of half-consciousness.

Weak and delirious, Laura struggled to sit up, opening old cuts that had been slow to heal and sending droplets of blood through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. She dragged the dead weight of her left thigh to the right, attempting to swing her legs off of the bed. Laura saw that the once-deep injury to her thigh was now a grisly, oozing mix of purple, red, and yellow. The effort was too much, and Laura’s body listed to the right side as she lost consciousness once more. At first, Danny thought she was having a hallucination, perhaps brought on by the lack of sleep whilst staying in the hotel. Surely, this tiny, broken thing was not _her_ Laura.

Danny’s heart fell through her stomach to her toes.

Laura wasn’t hers anymore.

The cold reality of that fact did nothing to stop her from cradling her ex’s body in her arms while she fumbled to dial 911. “Laura, Laura, no. No. No.” As she shook Laura’s shoulders, the staccato mantra issued from Danny’s lips, feeling more grave, more important than any other words she’d ever repeated. She had no time to blame herself. She had time only to act.

Danny’s cell landed on the hall carpet, and after freezing for a fraction of a second, she left it there. She was going to take matters into her own hands. Forgetting that moving an injured victim can often cause more internal harm, Danny panicked. She sprinted outside carrying Laura fireman-style, easing the tiny girl’s limp form into the backseat of the station wagon they once shared. The trashed cream-colored vehicle pulled away from the curb so quickly that the nearly treadless tires squealed. Dead-eyed, with tears streaming down her face and blood on her hands, Danny drove. It was all she could do to stay within five miles per hour above the speed limit.


	2. That's Gonna Bruise Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaos ensues; Laura gets admitted; fun is had by all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring my heavy use of adverbs!

Terrifyingly, when she arrived at the emergency room, Danny had no memory of the drive there. She was surprised she had received no tickets on the way, but she would never tempt fate by thinking about it at length. She cut off the engine, leapt out of the car, and bellowed.

"HELP! SOMEBODY, HELP."

A team of three nurses reached the car in seconds flat, instantly evaluating Laura's condition. Only when her ex was strapped to the stretcher and being wheeled inside did Danny allow herself to feel emotion. She slammed her fist into the hood of her car so hard she was surprised she didn't add new dents to its pockmarked surface. The fight left her as she crumpled against her vehicle, wringing her hands, with tears running down her cheeks. Before she quite collected her thoughts, she made a decision she'd later come to regret deeply. Danny Lawrence, knight in shining armor, was not brave enough to watch Laura fight this battle. In a split second, she was back in the front seat of her old jalopy. She almost pulled into a parking spot, but instead, she swerved off to the right and out of the parking lot. She was on her way to the hotel room which she still refused to call home, with the radio turned up as far as it would go.

 _That's gonna bruise tomorrow_ , Danny smiled to herself bitterly.

Early the next morning, a sleepless Danny wondered if she'd feel less tormented by this if she were the sort of person that would hold Laura's hand through all this. She wondered if she would have slept better in a reclining chair next to her girlfriend's-- _ex_ 's bed. She closed her eyes and imagined holding Laura while she cried, instead of letting her own frustration at not being able to protect Laura fuel their arguments.

Danny wished so, so ardently that she could be that person. But wishes are empty things, wispy as clouds and lacking substance.

* * *

Laura's eyes opened to a glimpse of pure, sterile white light. _How cliché._ She strained to view anything beyond the blinding illumination. Indeed, she strained against quite a few things, as she immediately realized. Her wrists were secured by soft velcro cuffs to railings on either side of her. She wore only a hospital gown; she shivered with the cold brought on by the remnants of her fever. She felt the pressure of a thick IV needle in her thigh every time she tried to move, and the tight pinch of stitches all over her body.  _Holy Hufflepuff, how long have I been out?_ Tubes and drains entered and exited her body everywhere. She was most disgusted by the feeding tube in her nose, although she supposed it had been quite a long time since she'd last eaten. A cursory glance at the medicines attached to her IV drip yielded a bit more information. The bags read: Daptomycin injection USP (an antibiotic, she supposed), 0.9% Sodium Chloride Injection USP (just saline), and, interestingly enough, Valium injection USP. She proceeded to glance around the room. A note on her bedside table read in large, neat red letters, "I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I love you." Laura scowls at the memory of a tall redheaded woman, but soon the emotion dissipates. A chalkboard on the wall read "Welcome to Historic Silas Hospital!" in large, elaborate lettering. Underneath it, there were spaces for the day's staff, left blank. The date read: 1 October 2015. 

Laura had no memory of anything since 17 September. This terrified her, but not as much as the prospect of being trapped in this room for the foreseeable future. Strangely, even the intense perplexity and fear were beginning to float away.

She blamed the Valium for the floatiness and the not being able to remember much, but she didn't hate it the way she expected to hate psychiatric medication. Valium stuffed the feelings down, slowed her thoughts, and kept her from acting. She didn't know it was there as a post-surgery sedative. Laura couldn't remember the last time she felt this calm. She almost wanted to cry, but this time from relief. If there was a sense of panic at having been "caught", it lay dormant underneath the overwhelming peace. She couldn't hold on to a thought for as long as she remembered being able to, but she didn't mind too much.

Suddenly, she remembered she was in restraints. She pulled at them gently first, testing them. With each successive try, she pulled harder and harder. Laura had no idea what she would do once she escaped the cuffs, but it seemed imperative that she do so _now_. She tried to extricate her wrists by bending her hands backward or reaching across to the opposite rail, but eventually she simply resorted to pulling. Her efforts did not go unnoticed by the charge nurse, a pale, slight blonde with smile lines who happened to be on rounds. She entered with a bright, nervous smile almost immediately. 

"Hello, Miss Laura. I'm Lise. I will be your nurse all night. It's nice to see you awake. It will be time for your evening medications in a couple hours!" 

Laura was dimly aware she was in Silas Hospital, a national psychiatric facility with surgical and medical beds. "Wait. How in hell or Hogwarts did I get here?"

"You were brought here, dear."

"Who? Who did that?" Laura asked, hazily aware that under normal circumstances she might be angry at them--both the nurse and whoever interrupted Laura's existence in the apartment to bring her here.

"I wasn't here when you arrived. But it says in your chart that--" Lise paused to check her tablet "--a friend brought you, someone named... Danny Lawrence? Do you know him?"

" _Her_ ," Laura sighed rather bitterly. "Yes, I do know _her_."

After an extended silence, Lise cleared her throat. "Well, ah, you've recovered quite nicely. You should be able to transfer to our acute adult wing in just a few days!" 

"I want to go _home_ , and I want these _off_ ," Laura lamented quietly, earning her an awkward smile from her nurse. 

"Dear, it's going to be a little while before we can let you go home safely."

Laura pulled at her restraints with renewed effort, so furiously that her wrists were getting rubbed raw. Lise stepped closer to her bed and calmly told Laura to look her in the eye. Laura matched her nurse's gaze hesitantly, struggling a little less as she concentrated. She couldn't hate this woman. She was just doing her job.

Lise exhaled inaudibly. "I can take these off now that you're not picking at your injuries in your sleep anymore, but if you try anything, we're going to have to use restraints again."  _Whether chemical or physical._

Gloomily, Laura consented to receiving what little freedom she apparently could. Exhausted from the physical effort and the social interaction, she soon fell asleep. She never found out what her evening meds were, but her dreams were awfully vivid.

**Author's Note:**

> With a little research, the only other psych ward AU I could find was “Where Do Broken Hearts Go?” by Erroneous. Check it out. It is an intense and captivating story, which ended too abruptly. This work feels really raw, and I normally get very anxious about sharing my work with anyone, so I hope it's worth it.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
